So It Begins
by patsan
Summary: September 1928. Mary and Matthew share a quiet moment together, as the next adventure is about to start.


Happy Friday, dear readers :)

Today I present you with some fluff interwoven with memories of past worries, because those have a way of making present happiness sweeter, don't you think?

This story is part of my post S3 AU named "The Bicycle Series", which consists in a few drabbles published on my Tumblr over the past few months. From a chronological point of view it's the first instalment of that little 'saga', which means it can be read as a stand-alone.

I hope you enjoy.

Many thanks to **darkblueyank** for being a wonderful beta.

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**Downton Abbey, September 1928**

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"Are you are going to be fine, then?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he sat down on the side of the bed.

"Yes, darling, you needn't worry," Mary assured him with a smile.

"Of course I need to, it is my prerogative as your husband to do so," he said, reaching for her hand.

He squeezed it gently, watching her silently, and Mary raised a perfect eyebrow questioningly.

He brought her hand to his face, kissing its back, all the while looking at her with half a smile playing around his lips.

"I don't think we can keep it a secret for much longer," he said settling her hand down, safely enclosed into his own. "This is the fourth day in a row that you've been unwell. Your father asked me if it wouldn't be wise to call for Doctor Clarkson."

"Except the Doctor already knows," she completed Matthew's thought easily.

He nodded, and Mary smiled.

"I imagine the family will pick it up sooner rather than later," she said. "Or maybe not Papa, but I've seen my mother looking at me when she thinks I'm not watching. I imagine she is wondering, but doesn't want to say anything in case she's wrong."

"Mother yesterday asked me if you are not coming down with something, since you spent the morning in bed this past couple of days."

Mary rolled her eyes at this, although she was touched by her mother-in-law sometimes overbearing care.

"Granny must have told her," she decided, shaking her head as an amused smile tugged at her lips.

"I wonder when those two became such good friends," Matthew chuckled.

"Don't let them hear that, they like to think they're not," she said. She looked down for a moment, and then she met his gaze again, a serious expression on her face. "There's someone else we need to tell, I think."

He smiled.

"I look forward to it, actually. Do you think he'll be pleased?"

Mary shrugged, moving her hand slightly and entwining her fingers with his.

"I couldn't tell you. He never asked for a sibling."

"Yes, he's been very unlike his father in that regard."

"I know," she said softy, and Matthew looked at her surprised. "Your mother told me," she then revealed, "when… well, when Doctor Ryder said that it would be very difficult for us to have more children."

As it turned out, the good doctor had been withholding information from them, somewhat judging it better for them not to worry too much about conceiving again, but his words that afternoon had had the unexpected effect of thrusting Mary in a darkened mood she'd not been able to shake away for some time.

Mary tried to give her husband a little smile, now, but it was quite tight, and she had to avert her eyes from his.

She looked down to their linked hands lying between them on the mattress, and pressed her lips together as she remembered that day.

She'd been desperate then, she can now admit, but she'd kept her composure, a mask of calm she didn't feel kept surely on for the whole trip back from London.

She'd tried talking about this or that at first, trivial things like how lovely the weather had been that week or how they should start thinking about a suitable gift for George's upcoming fourth birthday, but Matthew could see right through her, and so the conversation had steadily died out and she'd fallen silent, wallowing in her dark thoughts while at the same time scolding herself for her mood, because what was there to complain about, really?

They had already done their duty to Downton, hadn't they?

They had a son, and he was the most darling thing in the world to her, and with him and Matthew she was happy, something she'd thought for a time she would never be.

But she _was_ happy, truly so, and she'd found purpose beyond their little family, beyond being a wife, a mother, and a Countess in waiting, and now helping Matthew and more recently Tom as well as her own father in running the estate (even though the latter had not been very pleased by her involvement at first) was a part in her day, in her week, she enjoyed greatly.

She'd found her balance, she'd thought that day as she admonished herself silently, and there was no reason at all why she should feel this way by the mere thought of not having more children.

But then... why did it hurt so much?

Why couldn't she look Matthew in the eye once they were back at Downton?

She'd claimed a headache that same evening, she'd pretended to be asleep when he came to check on her, and that had bothered her even more.

Why couldn't she tell him how she felt?

He'd tried talking to her the following day, but she'd dismissed his worries with a joke.

Instead, she'd sought physical comfort in the dark of their bedroom at night, a small, obnoxious part of her thinking that if she couldn't give him the large family she knew he wanted, she could at least give him this.

Matthew, however, had stopped her before she could lose herself.

His kisses had been soft, his hands delicate and caring, and he'd held her whispering that this was the only thing that really mattered, the two of them together and everything they'd build.

_"__Everything else is just detail,"_ he'd said against her hair.

Something inside her had broken at his words, and then it had been impossible to fight back the tears.

She'd cried and cried in his chest, his arms securely around her, his chin resting on her head, his hands rubbing soothingly over her back and shoulders, and when sorrow had shifted to need long into the night, they'd made love slowly, gently, giving and taking without reserve, losing and finding themselves in each other with every touch, every moan, every breathless sigh.

She'd thought she would drown in his tenderness.

She'd thought she would burn and then rise again in this love that was strong and deep and bound them together more and more with each day that passed.

Isobel had invited her for tea a few days later, and she'd shared stories from Matthew's childhood that had made Mary laugh with delight in the luminous morning room of Crawley House.

Her mother-in-law had then squeezed Mary's hand and revealed how often Matthew had asked for a brother when he was only a boy, and how he'd stopped when he'd realised that was not to be.

How happy a child he'd been regardless.

_"__Just as I know George is and will be, my dear. Never doubt about that."_

And she'd never doubted it, not for a moment.

Mary felt Matthew's fingers under her chin now, and she lifted her head so that their eyes could meet.

"You know you've made me very happy, don't you, darling?" he asked, quietly, as if reading her mind. Or maybe his thoughts had wandered down the same route as hers. "It doesn't matter what I've imagined or wanted before, reality has always outdone the fantasy, _always_."

She smiled and nodded, because she knew, of course, and she could assert without hesitation that it had been the same for her.

"I agree," was all she could say, swallowing with emotion, her words conveying years of happiness, and gratitude, and love, of knowing each other so deeply and in so many ways.

Matthew's boyish grin was a wonderful reward for her poorly expressed feelings, and suddenly happiness bubbled inside her heart.

She leaned forward and kissed him, breathing him in, holding his face close to hers with both hands.

When she broke away, she smiled contently.

She let him go, and cleared her throat.

She wasn't used to be so sentimental, and she more than happily blamed it on her pregnancy.

After all, that was one of the first pieces of information Isobel had relied on her the first time around.

She smirked, quite amused with her own thoughts, and rested her hands on her still flat stomach, lacing her fingers together over the duvet.

"When are we going to tell George, then?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

"If you feel better we could take a walk this afternoon," Matthew proposed with a smile. "Or maybe we could have tea with him in the nursery, he loves when we do that."

"I think the tea," she said, as she felt herself relax, and pressed a little more heavily into the pillows behind her back. "It's been a while since we've done it, and I'd like that."

"Then it's settled," Matthew said as he finally got up.

He leaned over her to place a kiss on her hair, but if he thought she would be satisfied with just that he was sorely mistaken.

So she lifted her face up in silent request, and Matthew chuckled, then his hand brushed the side of her face and he kissed her softly on the lips, his fingertips caressing her cheek.

"Rest now, darling," he said, "I'll come to you as soon as I get back."

"I'm counting on it," she whispered as she slid down on the bed and settled in as comfortably as she could.

She yawned, and rolled on her side facing Matthew, who tucked her in carefully.

She smiled thankfully, and closed her eyes, barely feeling the delicate touch of her husband's kiss upon the skin of her temple.

She didn't hear the soft click of the bedroom door.

She was already asleep by then, a little happy smile lingering on her lips.

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_Too much fluff? :P_

_Before you go, I'd like to spend a few words on this story, if you'll let me._

_"The Bicycle Series" started with three drabbles focusing around, well, a bicycle, George and Mary and Matthew. Then it slowy expanded, so that some things differ from canon, and not only because Matthew is obviously alive. I'm still having fun piecing all details together, but what I had in mind from the beginning of this short 'saga' was the idea that Mary and Matthew have not had more children after George, and you can imagine there's been some suffering there, which I wanted to explore in this story. After a while they have given up on the idea of enlarging the family, something they both wanted, simply accepting the blessings they did have, and then, suddenly, Mary finds herself pregnant for the second time._

_There's really not much more to these stories than this, Mary and Matthew as parents to George, their expectations of this new unexpected but very wanted baby, their role as a "power couple" in the management of the estate. Little moments in their life, quiet, happy, and, hopefully, with some heart-warming quality to it._

_Enough with the rambling. If you like, more will probably follow as I have a soft spot for this universe._

_And now, as always, I'd love to know what you thought about this little story :)_


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